


Digital Bath

by ComaGayby



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, BIG TW FOR VIOLENCE AND SHIT, Electrocution, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Murder, One Shot, a bit of a character study except Catra's character is just that she's a violent controlling creep, catra is like borderline psychopathic in this, heavily inspired by Digital Bath by Deftones, i love my babies why do i hurt them, im genuinely sorry lol, kinda verbose, the icky necrophilia undertones just kinda happened along the way, this is incredibly morbid, this is my first published fic lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComaGayby/pseuds/ComaGayby
Summary: Catra basks in the aftermath of her greatest achievement yet - murdering Adora.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Digital Bath

Catra had thoroughly enjoyed her evening.

She found herself laconic, perched on the kitchen sink with her back against the wall, a languid smile on her face as she admired Adora's bloated corpse, pallid arms hanging over the side of the bathtub.

She hadn't needed to feign much affection; the electrifying knowledge of what exactly she intended to do with her guest was enough to propel Catra forward in a state of euphoria the whole night. It was almost carnal, in a way; the _anticipation_. The thrill of the inevitable horror that poor, poor kind-hearted Adora could never have imagined. The sudden look of shocked realization had been sublime.

Her chin perched in her hand, the thoughtless, blissful grin still there, Catra found herself almost slipping off her perch, so deeply lost in appreciation for what she had done. She decided that the eight deep scars on Adora's back, courtesy of hers truly at the Battle of Bright Moon, looked less satisfying next to a web of electrical burns, but no matter. The blankness in Adora's brilliant blue eyes was enough to please her.

The night had been a charade from the beginning; Catra had made an excess of impulsive decisions in the past, but this was not one of them. It had taken work, so much work, to not only convince Adora of how _earnest_ and _willing_ she was to _reform herself_ , but to convince her simpering friends. That had been hardest; Sparkles would be devastated, but knowing her, probably with a certain degree of self-satisfaction that she had been right to doubt Catra's sincerity.

She almost felt bad for Adora. Once she had become convinced of Catra's desire to change, she had become almost desperate to fall back into their old routine. _And I thought I had been the desperate one_ , Catra had thought glibly. It was pathetic, but endearing in a way. Poor Adora. It had been much too easy to convince her that somehow, having a secret reunion in the Fright Zone was a good idea. Adora was noble like that; she would walk through hell if it was for a friend. Or whatever they were.

Snapping out of her thoughts (why were they already so hazy?) Catra slipped off the counter, and sidled over to Adora's clammy body. She sat on the side of the tub, relishing both Adora's admittedly attractive body, and her _deadness_. The two complimented eachother. She could move her with just a claw; floating there so serenely. Catra found this profoundly satisfying; Adora would be hers, forever, so light in death, so easy to push around and move. So unlike how she had been in life.

It occurred to Catra that she wasn't quite sure why she had done it. To do something that felt real? To end the nightmare that their rivalry had become, to finally return Adora to her place? To SHOW Adora her place, how low she really was? To make Adora hers? To create new memories, ones that would be hers forever? Maybe that was it. Adora would be immortalized forever in her mind; if she could still think conscious thoughts, she would probably have hoped for Catra to remember her undying loyalty, her dedication to Catra even after being hurt and pushed away so many times, maybe something trivial, like her smile, or her strength. Instead Catra's most cherished memories were the garbled screams as electricity tore through her flesh; the look of terrified realization as Catra sauntered towards the tub beaming, a Horde taser in her hand. And her smile.

The first thing Catra had done after Adora had died was to take a hand towel and dry off Adora's alabaster hands, taking both in her own and rubbing her claws against Adora's lifeless palms while purring. She even tentatively kissed Adora's lips, but though rigor mortis had yet to set in, they felt oddly clammy. Instead she kissed along Adora's neck, all while repeating a hushed mantra that to her buzzing ears sounded vaguely like _I love you_. 

"Death looks so much better on you, babe," she murmured. Clearly all those smitten princesses didn't realize how much more radiant Adora looked as a corpse. 

How long would that radiance last before she began to rot? When would the thrilling afterglow wear off?

Despite herself, Catra grew increasingly agitated at the thought that Adora would, inevitably, become a desiccated, gray husk; such a far cry from the vivacious amazon she cherished so deeply. She was so enamored by Adora for the same reason that she drove her mad: Adora was dauntless. She was a champion, an all-conquering hero. Her claws unsheathed reflexively at the thought. Why couldn't Adora dwell between life and death forever? It was so unfair. 

Catra brushed a few strands of semi-dry hair off of Adora's ear. "When I said I wanted to grow old with you," she whispered, "this wasn't what I meant. Why did you have to make me do this, Adora?" 

She quickly headed off her brush with lucidity by clutching Adora's limp hands to her chest until her anxious heart slowed. The irony almost made her giggle. 

Scorpia would find her curled up against the tub in the morning, hands intertwined with Adora's cold fingers, lost in what was likely her most peaceful sleep in months. It would take her the rest of her life to process, but she eventually came to the conclusion that though the murder had revealed clear latent psychopathy in her former friend, above all, this was her delusional way of ending this; her increasingly unhinged neuroticism. She had traded her unhinged ranting for an absurd projection of calm and serenity. She found that Catra's coldly blissful state was far more terrifying. 

**Author's Note:**

> yikes why is this my first completed fanfic ever 
> 
> grimdark murder angst bad vibes with really weird romantic undertones is fun maybe ill do more of that or perhaps write something that's actually pleasant


End file.
